


The Super Secret Super Awesome Underground Werewolf Convention

by DuendeAlya



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU where the alpha pack doesn't come, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Road Trips, Supernatural Community AU, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions, and there was only one bed, probably not slow burn because I'm scared of unleashing the yearning in my soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-03 18:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeAlya/pseuds/DuendeAlya
Summary: Stiles just wants some time away from the romance that had permeated his friend group. Derek Hale just wants to prevent the ragtag group of teenagers he had assumed responsibility for from dying a painful and horrible death at the hands of A.) Hunters B.) His own uncle and/or C.) Another werewolf pack. No biggie. All he has to do is survive a dumb Alpha networking event and no, Stiles, do not call it a Super Secret Super Awesome Underground Werewolf Convention.And oh, yeah. He also has to survive a road trip with none other than Stiles Stilinski and his stupid mouth at the aforementioned event. Goodie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, my first ever fanfic and actually first ever completed creative piece of writing in years. I'm gonna be posting this as I go and most likely editing as I post so however this turns out is gonna be a surprise for both of us, enjoy!

In hindsight, Stiles really should have guessed that this wouldn’t be such a great idea. But at the same time, what was the alternative? Stay home all summer with his stupid friend group and their stupid tendency to couple up every damn day? Leaving him to binge-watch reruns of Boy Meets World every day? Hell no. He was not going to spend one more day getting stood up by his literal best friend in the whole damn world just because Scott wanted to make out with Allison some more. And yeah, Allison is amazing and definitely too good for his dumb friend but it’s the principle of the thing, Stiles was here first and he called dibs on being Scotts BFF from the first day of kindergarten.

Still, it didn’t exactly feel too great being forgotten or tossed aside without a second thought day in and day out. Which is basically why he agreed to go to the Super Secret Super Awesome Underground Supernatural Convention with Derek. SSSAUSC for short.

And okay maybe it’s not really called that but that’s essentially what it is, screw Derek and his dumb murder-eyebrows that’s what he’s gonna call it. And maybe he didn’t really ‘agree’ to go along so much as he begged Derek to let him tag along for the 4 day trip. It’s not like he had to beg too much though, the guy had just listened silently to Stiles’ extremely well thought out plan and for a little over a minute with a single arched eyebrow and slight twitching of the lips before interjecting to shrug and sigh out, “I don’t care Stiles, just promise you’re not going to be talking this much on the way there.”

Stiles had hastily agreed but made no secret to cross his fingers behind his back, there was literally no way Derek would actually expect him to hold true to his promise.

So that’s how he found himself on his way to New York City sitting in Roscoe, his beautiful and ever-reliable Jeep. The Jeep that had never failed him and never would. The Jeep that had kept him stable and sane throughout his first crazy year venturing into the supernatural underworld that had permeated his small town seemingly before his very eyes.

The Jeep that had broken down in the middle of wannabe country-yet-still-podunk-town in California and was currently the object of one of the fiercest Hale glares Stiles had ever had the misfortune of witnessing.

He sighed, forgetting werewolf super hearing, and immediately regretted doing so as Derek turned to direct his glare towards him. 

“I swear to God I am going to kill you Stiles. You said your stupid Jeep could handle the trip, this is the second time it’s broken down and we've been on the road for less than a day.”

Stiles only winced a little bit and set to work on fiddling with his fingers while Derek continued doing . . . something under Roscoe’s hood and replied, “This is still better than it would have been in your dumb Camero. Can you imagine the lack of legroom? Jesus, you’re lucky I was able to come along in the first place, otherwise you would have been wallowing in your loneliness and insufficient space.”

“Right, how could I have ever survived without your constant singing and inane commentary on the types of trees we pass. Nevermind that I could have just rented a better car than your stupid Roscoe.”

At this, Stiles let out a dramatic gasp and clutched at his chest, “I know you did not just call Roscoe stupid. She’s done her very best it’s not her fault she doesn’t like having to tow around a grumpy sourwolf across the country.”

Derek just sighed and moved to get back to fiddling with the engine before sighing out, “Will you at least come over here and help with this?”

“I already told you, it’s too fucking cold out there. It’s the middle of summer how is it so fu-oof” he trailed off abruptly as a thick leather jacket suddenly collided with his face mid-sentence. 

He doesn’t even bother grumbling under his breath and instead just puts the jacket on, only pausing briefly to appreciate the fresh forest scent that lingered and the way its sleeves nearly passed his fingertips and then immediately hopped out of the Jeep to shake off any weird thoughts he had been close to getting.

Everyone including his own dad complained about his odd thoughts and commentary but Stiles was the only one that literally had to deal with it 24/7, he was really wishing Roscoe’s radio still worked so he could have at least a little music to drown out stupid hormonal teenage thoughts about a certain werewolf.

He moved to stand next to Derek as he thrust out a large flashlight and Stiles fought back a grimace as he reached out for it at the resurfacing memory of his dad trying to teach Stiles literally anything about maintaining a car and failing at even getting him to stand still for longer than 5 seconds.

Not much had really changed.

He was only marginally better at keeping his hand steady and had already begun half mumbling and half belting the lyrics to an old Al Bowly song his mom used to blast on the early Sunday mornings before she got sick, completely ignoring the dirty looks Derek was shooting.

“What do you usually do when it breaks down like this?” Derek sighed out, unable to find the source of the problem when there were so many issues under the hood.

Stiles just grinned and reached into the Jeep, pulled out a roll of duct tape and tossed it over to Derek, definitely not aiming forcefully for his head as that would have been incredibly embarrassing considering that he would have failed miserably and Derek totally knew of his attempt to exact justice over the leather jacket and was only somewhat failing to hide the twitching of his lips.

This time Stiles allowed himself to appreciate the sight for a second. Literally just a second. Or two. Maybe five.

Okay maybe not five whole seconds because Derek was already giving him a funny look and was about to say something when he suddenly tensed and let his eyes flash red, anything curious and soft and other than defensive fled from his face and Stiles found himself wishing he had also grabbed his bat from the backseat as a voice rang out from only a few feet away.

“You boys in need of some help?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect such a great response to the first chapter! I'm so glad y'all liked it, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Stiles turned with no small amount of trepidation to see that the voice had come from a short woman in a loose-fitting black long-sleeved shirt worn under a large, aged pair of overalls that nearly swamped her figure.

His eyes scanned over her, noting the lack of obvious weapons in her possession. And while he would think it’d be kind of dumb for a hunter to so blatantly display their weapons for all to see, they are in a pretty remote area and he’s witnessed firsthand how trigger happy Allison’s family is; they’re not exactly shy when it comes to displaying their arsenal. 

Whether she’s actually a supernatural threat still remains unknown so Stiles turns his head to look subtly over at Derek for some kind of cue and realizes with a little shock that Derek shifted his body in the last second to partially shield Stiles from the woman.

He knows that it’s probably just a habit from constantly saving his puny human ass but the thought of Derek instinctively moving to protect him didn’t make him as defensive or agitated as he would have expected but instead caused a weird swooping feeling in his gut and made his fingers tingle and he had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out to grab onto Derek’s henley or even worse, his hands. Great, now he can’t stop staring at his fucking hands. Ugh, what the fuck.

Oh fuck right. Potential werewolf monster lady. 

He looks back up at Derek’s face and feels all the air in his lungs escape and he knows he looks like an idiot, his mouth gaping open and his eyes wide as he tries to simultaneously take in what he’s seeing and commit it to memory.

Derek Hale is smiling.

And not like the smirks he sometimes shoots Stiles over a particularly witty insult or the small lip twitches he fights back during their banter or even the polite and somewhat strained smiles he shoots to Scott’s mom when picking up Scott for some special werewolf training this is a full-blown smile. The same smile that makes Tara at the station melt and turn to goo, easily acquiescing to any and all requests. 

But there’s something about it that makes Stiles feel uneasy and discomforted (definitely not because he’s smiling at this completely random stranger) and maybe Derek can sense it somehow because he casually reaches over and gently wraps his hand around Stiles’ wrist, squeezing it briefly and brushes his fingertips against Stiles’ knuckles as he pulls away. 

Even worse, he turns and directs his smile to Stiles; toning down the radiant grin and letting some softness leak into his green eyes and really just making his smile so much more genuine and man Stiles is so royally fucked because the swooping feeling is back only a hundred thousand times worse but he also feels so much better and knows that whoever this woman is, she isn’t a threat. 

A part of him wonders when he started trusting Derek’s judgment so completely and how on Earth he ever managed to feel so safe around him but he just grins and lets Derek respond, “We’re just having a little car trouble here, do you think you could direct us to the nearest mechanic?”

At this, the woman grins and spreads her arms wide, “Why, you’re lookin’ at her! M’ name’s Miranda but y’all can just call me Myra, everybody does. I got my truck just a little ways back, I’ll bring it around and give y’all a ride into town and we’ll take a look-see under the hood to see what the problem is.”

“That’s awesome! What luck huh?” Stiles nudges Derek with his hip and lets his grin widen when Derek only responds with a half-hearted eye roll and a small hum.

“I’ll be right back, boys. Just a minute or two.” She waved as she bounced off, returning to the direction she had presumably came from. 

Stiles turned to grin at the other man again, still somewhat unbelieving of their luck and saw that he had let his radiant smile fall and was now projecting a sense of extreme neutralness. Not as great as his earlier smile but still miles better than a glare or even the smile he had plastered on his face for Myra.

“So, not a werewolf or witch or anything?” he asks, mostly just to have something to say than anything else.

Derek shakes his head, “Not that I could tell at least. I don’t think she’s much of a threat in any case.”

“Why? ‘Cuz she’s tiny?”

“If being around Lydia has taught me anything, it’s that the smaller the person is the more likely they’ll be to be bubbling with rage and murderous intent.”

Stiles barks out a startled laugh and feels a warm feeling enter his chest at the mention of her name, not in the way it used to when he was ardently in love with her but more in the way a brother might carry affection for an audacious little sister.

“Lydia’s special though,” he points out, “she’s always been strong-willed and opinionated. I remember once in the third grade, she absolutely refused to let the teacher read from some princess book she said it ‘encouraged misogynism in impressionable youth’ during storytime by screaming her lungs out continuously for a solid five minutes.”

“That probably should have been the first hint of her banshee abilities,” Derek responds dryly before pausing slightly and looking off into the dense forest. 

“Is that when you fell in love with her?”

Stiles blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but really he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say because wow that came out of nowhere what the hell but he’s cut off from whatever he was going to start rambling about when La Cucaracha blares out from several feet ahead of them.

Both Stiles and Derek watch silently and somewhat amazed as Myra waves frantically from her seat in a massive tow truck that has been painted bright yellow with even brighter flowers hand-painted on. Stiles can feel a manic grin growing at the sight and feels unbelievably blessed that the gods have granted him the opportunity to ride around in such a horrendous eyesore. 

He immediately digs into his pants pocket to pull out his phone and rapidly takes several photos of the Beast (which he has lovingly decided to name the aforementioned eyesore) as Myra sets to work hooking up Roscoe to the Beast. He then sends the pictures to both his dad and to Scott, declaring the Beast to be the most incredible vehicle on Earth second to only Roscoe and pushing Derek’s Camaro to third place.

He looks up at Derek, still grinning wildly and feels himself warm at Derek’s failed attempt to appear unimpressed. As always, the twitching of his lips gives him away. 

“C’ mon boys, let’s get a move on.”

Stiles moves to jump in first and take the middle seat, knowing Derek’s hulking figure would obscure the rear window. Unfortunately, he overestimates his own height and finds himself awkwardly trying to claw his way inside the huge truck and wishes he had seen how Myra had climbed in as she snorts and continues watching him humiliate himself from her perch.

And then he feels a slight pressure on his right elbow and his left hip and he lets out a soft exhale as he realizes wow he’s basically being lifted into the truck. 

He scoots himself over to sit next to Myra and does his best to ignore the burning flush on his face and the knowing smirk she’s sending over to him as Derek easily sits at Stiles’ side.

“So, where you boys from? We don’t get a lot of people in Millstown, not even really anybody passing through.”

“Beacon Hills. It’s about half a day’s drive from here. A little less if you actually have a working vehicle.” 

Myra just snorts as Stiles instinctively whips out his hand to whack Derek on the chest, completely pushing the tingling feeling that had stayed on his skin after being hoisted into the truck out of his mind and forgetting that Derek was literally a werewolf and would sooner bite off Stiles’ hand in its entirety than let him touch him. Still, Stiles’ hand makes contact and really he’s come this far, he might as well commit to it. So he smacks his chest a couple more times for good measure, glad that Derek would never harm him too badly in front of Myra.

After it becomes evident that Stiles is probably not going to stop smacking his chest, Derek rolls his eyes and grabs the offending hand and forcing it down on his own lap, squeezing it lightly and raising his left eyebrow as if to ask, ‘Are you done now?’

And this is so much worse than the light touch on his elbow and hip because he’s still touching him and his palms are probably really sweaty and gross and

And Derek just released his hand.

He fucking hates his dumb sweaty hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just realized that the summary kind of implies that Derek's POV will be the forefront of the story but I'm hoping to explore in a later chapter. For now, get ready for Stiles' pining.


End file.
